Chapter 44: Sour and Soft: Beyond Expectations

The vendors’ calls drifted into the carriage from outside.

In this incongruous setting, she had laid herself bare before Zhao Huairen.

After speaking, Yan Yiqing lifted her gaze to meet Zhao Huairen’s. Her pupils remained as black and bright as ever.

Their eyes locked, and a subtly charged atmosphere rose within the carriage. In this sudden verbal sparring match, Zhao Huairen was the first to yield, though she couldn’t pinpoint why—yet deep down, she inexplicably felt that Yan Yiqing truly cared about her opinion.

“I won’t arrest you.”

Having received an unexpected answer, the wise course was to quit while ahead, but Yan Yiqing couldn’t help pressing further: “Why?”

Would she see her differently from others, in her eyes?

Following Zhao Huairen’s usual style, when facing someone like Yan Yiqing—whose loyalties were unclear and with whom she still had entangled interests—she would always half-truth, half-deceive to mask her true thoughts…

“You’re not a criminal that the Dali Temple needs to apprehend, so I have no authority to arrest you.” Her thin lips pressed together slightly. Though she hadn’t spelled it out completely, there wasn’t a hint of falsehood in her words. “Besides, if it was for self-preservation, killing someone isn’t a bad thing.”

In truth, as the Vice Minister of the Dali Temple in charge of justice, Zhao Huairen’s words just now were already somewhat biased. But it still wasn’t enough… She wanted to monopolize her gaze, wanted her to stand unjustly by her side.

“What if I was lying to you earlier?” Yan Yiqing lowered her eyes, her voice carrying a faint hoarseness: “Self-preservation was just an excuse. I’m inherently a wicked person beyond redemption.”

Zhao Huairen frowned. “Why say that about yourself?”

“Swords and spears are blind; countless souls have perished under long spears. The Heir Apparent surely doesn’t think I’m some good person, does she?”

Though Zhao Huairen couldn’t recall the exact details anymore, she vaguely remembered Yan Yiqing’s first visit to the Zhao residence: Back then, Yan Yiqing’s skills were nowhere near her current level, but if she had wanted to, the martial artist trained from childhood could have easily dealt with those young ladies bullying her.

But she hadn’t. Instead, she had hidden away alone. Her reason for avoiding wasn’t fear, but simply that she hadn’t considered using force to solve the problem.

“Why are you so eager for me to admit you’re bad?”

The woman’s voice was like an unfathomable breeze, so light it couldn’t even stir a single strand of hair. Yan Yiqing almost thought she’d imagined it. As she hesitated on whether to respond, Zhao Huairen added: “We’ve arrived at Qingyun Hall. Let’s get out.”

Her sleeve swayed gently with her movement as she rose.

A fragrance both sweet and cool suddenly burrowed into her heart.

Her outstretched fingertips grasped at empty air. In the end, Yan Yiqing failed to catch her sleeve or ask the question burning in her mind.

–

“Half a shichen from now, bring the horse back.” Qin An handed the reins to the stable boy at the entrance.

The two wives disembarked from the carriage one after the other.

The crimson official robes instantly drew all eyes.

In the entire Great Yong, among court officials, only that pair matched.

Gazes converged from all directions—curious, probing—their implications hard to capture in simple words:

“They’ve been married nearly a month, and this is the first time seeing them out together?”

“Didn’t they say this couple has a bad relationship?”

“Different positions mean different dreams, even in the same bed.”

“Then why are they out together?”

The fragmented murmurs reached their ears. A flicker of discomfort passed through Zhao Huairen’s light brown eyes, her sword-like brows furrowing slightly as she strode briskly into Qingyun Hall.

Unlike Zhao Huairen, Yan Yiqing paid no heed to the surrounding chatter. A smile played at her lips as she even cupped her hands toward Qin An. “Qin An, don’t hold back later. Order whatever you want.”

“Thank you, Young Master Yan.” Qin An nodded.

This famed eatery in Yanjing had attendants skilled at reading the room. Spotting Zhao Huairen, he called out without hesitation: “One Tian-class private room!”

Yan Yiqing quickened her pace subtly until she walked shoulder-to-shoulder with her, finally satisfied.

Her mind raced with thoughts on how to connect with the Meng family.

Lost in contemplation, Zhao Huairen didn’t notice the little cat’s clingy maneuver.

“Heir Apparent, this is your usual room.” The waiter pushed open the rosewood door carved with peonies as he spoke. “It faces the Mei River tributary—perfect for viewing painted boats passing under the bridge at noon.”

A silk-embroidered screen met their eyes.

Beyond it sat a black-lacquered eight-immortal table inlaid with mother-of-pearl at the room’s center.

“I’m treating the Heir Apparent to lunch, yet I end up riding her coattails again.”

Zhao Huairen’s long lashes lowered slightly as she said softly: “If not for Yiqing, I’d probably go hungry at noon.”

That hint of genuine-seeming annoyance.

Vanished in the blink of an eye, soothed away by her few gentle words.

“Quick, sit. Standing like this looks silly.” Yan Yiqing moved to Zhao Huairen’s side and pulled out a chair for her. “Sit~”

No good deed without ulterior motives—but Zhao Huairen truly couldn’t fathom what benefits Yan Yiqing sought from her.

“Thank you.” Zhao Huairen didn’t refuse her kindness.

Her lips curved up, and Yan Yiqing settled contentedly beside her, then told the waiter: “Bring one portion of everything the Heir Apparent likes. Any new dishes at Qingyun Hall lately? Recite them for us.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The waiter held the gold-inlaid menu board in both hands, about to list the dishes, when the door suddenly opened.

Like the last wisp of floral soul at the turn from late spring to early summer, layers of pale cyan skirts accentuated the woman’s fair skin. “Heir Apparent, it’s been a while.”

Xie Lanqin curtsied in greeting.

The hairpin in her hair tinkled, both melodious and affectionate.

A flash of surprise crossed her eyes, and Zhao Huairen replied warmly: “No need for formalities. You’re dining here too?”

The delicate beauty, soft yet not vulgar, shook her head lightly, lips pursed. “I was just looking at clothes in Cloud Dress Pavilion next door. Hearing you were here, I hurried over.”

Cough cough… Fingers lightly callused from handling brushes lifted a teacup as Yan Yiqing coughed softly.

“It’s been days since the Heir Apparent visited Zhaixiang Tower.”

The words carried a hint of grievance.

Yet they seemed merely a gentle, offhand reminder.

“With summer approaching, Dali Temple duties have piled up, and I took on a new case this morning.” Zhao Huairen paused, looking at her. “I probably won’t go to Zhaixiang Tower for a while.”

Her finely drawn distant-mountain brows furrowed slightly. Xie Lanqin lowered her gaze. “Yes, I understand.”

I’m still breathing here! Can’t they see such a living person!?

“Cough cough… cough cough cough!” Yan Yiqing set her teacup down with a thud, her coughs growing louder.

Finally noticing the persistent coughing beside her, Zhao Huairen turned and asked: “What’s wrong? Did you choke?”

Yan Yiqing pouted, even her exhaled breath tinged with sourness. Gritting her back teeth, she said: “So you can hear. Heh, I thought the Heir Apparent couldn’t hear me speak.”

“Did you say something just now?” Zhao Huairen frowned.

Is she really clueless or just pretending? If I don’t speak up, they’ll be toasting bridal wine next.

Sourness rushed straight to her head. Yan Yiqing gripped her teacup tightly, about to speak—

“It’s my fault for disturbing the Heir Apparent and Madam’s peace.” A layer of self-reproach covered her refined brows. Glancing at Zhao Huairen, Xie Lanqin lowered her head.

With those words, enlightenment dawned on Zhao Huairen.

No wonder the atmosphere felt off. Xie Lanqin must have mistaken Yan Yiqing for having feelings for her, hence the subtle barbs in her words.

Zhao Huairen said mildly: “Vice Minister Yan doesn’t mind. You’re overthinking it.”

She still didn’t know what Yan Yiqing truly wanted.

But having feelings for her? That was—absolutely impossible.

Dark clouds gathered between her brows, her watery peach-blossom eyes nearly dripping vinegar. Yan Yiqing wrinkled her nose. “Who are you to say I don’t mind?!”

“Sorry, I spoke out of turn.” Zhao Huairen’s gaze cooled slightly.

“That’s not what I—” Facing such a situation for the first time, her thoughts tangled. Yan Yiqing turned away. “I don’t know her, so… I don’t want to be in the same room with her.”

“I was rude. Please forgive me, Vice Minister Yan.” Xie Lanqin curtsied to Yan Yiqing, her expression gentle, voice soft: “I am Xie Lanqin, a dancer at Zhaixiang Tower.”

Of course she remembered who she was.

That day returning to the capital, she had sat right beside Huairen.

Yan Maomao’s whiskers practically quivered with rage as she squeezed out through clenched teeth: “Rise. No need for formalities.”

“I have official business to discuss with Young Master Yan.” Though unclear on the reason, Zhao Huairen followed Yan Yiqing’s earlier intent. “Lanqin, you should go back first.”

A trace of reluctance flashed in her eyes.

Clutching her sleeve, Xie Lanqin curtsied and departed.

“Lanqin’s gone now. Can you tell me why you had to send her away?” Zhao Huairen frowned at Yan Yiqing.

Seeing her master ask this, Qin An’s shoulders shook as she stifled laughter.

Isn’t she a blockhead? Yan Yiqing wanted to vent, but felt it was all karma from her own earlier actions.

“Didn’t I say? I don’t know her.” The little cat picked up her chopsticks, stubborn as ever. “I don’t like being around strangers, and I’m starving. I waited for you at Donghua Gate for so long.”

“That’s the only reason?” Zhao Huairen was puzzled.

“What else? What do you think?” Yan Yiqing jabbed fiercely at the sweet-and-sour ribs in her bowl, taking a bite that made her back teeth ache with sourness.

Qingyun Hall was all hype!

Not tasty at all—the chef’s skills were definitely subpar.

Accustomed to Yan Yiqing’s quick mood shifts, Zhao Huairen didn’t press further and began her lunch leisurely.

Yan Yiqing watched her movements from the corner of her eye.

So annoying. Even eating looks this good on her.

The ravenous little cat faced a table of delicacies but barely touched them. On the fifth time setting down her chopsticks, she finally asked: “Are you close with her?”

“Who?”

Hmph, playing dumb. Yan Yiqing pursed her lips. “Who else? That pretty woman just now, Xie Lanqin.”

Zhao Huairen dabbed her lips lightly with a silk handkerchief. “Not bad.”

The overwhelming jealousy finally eased a bit. Yan Yiqing reached for the ladle to scoop some yellow croaker soup.

“We’ve known each other three years.”

Three years?!

With a plop, the ladle dropped into the soup.

She desperately wanted to question her, but realized she had no standing. Stomach empty, yet Yan Yiqing felt stuffed with anger.

“Your appetite is this small?” Seeing she’d only gnawed half a rib from start to finish, Zhao Huairen frowned. “You train daily—how is that enough?”

Yan Yiqing forced a skin-deep smile. “As long as you’re full, it’s fine.”

She wanted to persuade her to eat more.

But didn’t want her thinking she was nosy.

Her phoenix eyes lowered slightly, and Zhao Huairen fell silent.